Speak Now
by Thirteenth-D
Summary: Based on Taylor Swift's song Speak Now. Santana is getting married, but not to the girl who she really wants to. Brittany plans to change that. Minor Brittana, I don't own the song or the characters (unfortunately)


The back door was open, just as promised. I slid in gently before clicking the door shut behind me. My Vans padded along the church's wooden floors as I made my way to the janitor's closet. Sucking in a breath, I turned the knob until I hear a tell-tale _click_ resonate through the hall. I let out the breath I was holding in before silently ducking in. I leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths. The tiny square room smelled of chlorine along with other chemical cleaners and I gagged at the stench.

"'Bout time, Pierce," said a gruff voice from a dark corner of the small, small room. He handed me a long plastic bag and dusted himself off. For a janitor's closet, it sure was dirty in here.

"Yeah, well, my ride was a little late, Puckerman," I retorted as I slid the pastel-colored dress from the bag. I made a face of disgust at the terrible color choice and Puck snickered.

"You should see the altar," he laughed before pulling up his sleeve to check his watch. He let out an audible groan and slammed his head against the wall. Who the hell wears a pastel pink wedding dress to their wedding? I understand the color with prom or homecoming but a wedding? It looked tight around the waist. Oh, god I feel bad for Mercedes if this was the style. Not saying that she's fat! She's just… thicker (?) than others? Jesus, if Mercedes were here to hear this inner monologue, she'd kill me. I looked at Puck's weary face. He looked ten years older than he was supposed to. I titled my head to the side in question.

"Just… Just make sure that you don't make a fool out of you _or_ her, 'kay, Britt?" His eyes were pleading and his shoulders slightly slumped. I looked down at the floor and thought for a second. I looked back at him with a stern look on my face.

"She wants this as much as I do." He looked skeptically at me. "I know she does, Puck, trust me." He nodded slowly before leading me out of the closet. After a few minutes of walking down the overly long corridors, Puck and I came to large oak door. I took a deep breath and set my hand on the old wood as I heard the organ start to play. The song sounded so… dead and sorrowful. That's pretty bad when the organist isn't even into the wedding.

I hesitated at the door for a few moments before Puck put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"You can do it, Britt," he whispered. "That is, if you mean what you say is true." He smiled and gently pushed me forward. I pushed both the doors open in an entrance that Rachel would be proud of. Everything stopped. The organ, the blonde walking down the aisle, the people, the girl at the altar, the priest, the numerous fathers, mothers and friends; they all just… _stopped_ and _stared_ at me. After all the Glee Club performances and dance recitals and _everything_ I've ever did in front of large groups of people, I thought that I'd get used to thousands of eyes on me. Apparently, though, I was wrong, because the few amounts of eyes on me made my heart beat with anxiety and nervousness. All of them, of course, except for _hers_.

"I-I… um… object or something," I muttered nervously and tried to only focus on Santana's eyes and face and subtle smile. Snickers and murmurs sounded around me at my inelegant words. "Santana, I know that I'm not as pretty as Quinn," I threw a hand toward the girl in the horrible pastry-dress. "And I'm not as smart as her or elegant or as good a singer," I paused for a breath but made sure my eyes didn't stray from Santana's. "I know another thing as well," I took a step towards her and risked a blink. "You love me a _hundred_ times more than you love her." I stated, knowing that it was true. I can't tell you how many times where a shrill ringing woke me up at three or four in the morning and a crying Santana had been there on the other end.

_*Flashback*_

_ "I mean," She laughed humorlessly, "I don't even _love_ her, Britt!" Sobs escaped from her throat and I had to try really hard to not join in her sadness._

_ "I know, San, I know."_

_ *End Flashback*_

Everyone's gasp almost made my eyes move away from Santana's encouraging ones. "I know that I shouldn't be doing this," I whispered loudly, if that's possible, "but I also know that Santana isn't… she doesn't deserve to be unhappy. She's a… an _awesome_ girl who deserves to be happy—truly happy—with someone she loves," I gestured to Quinn again. "Not someone she _has_ _to be in love _with." I paused for a moment before bowing my head sheepishly. "No offense, Q," I whispered. She smiled sweetly, obviously not offended at all. I turned back to Santana again, ignoring everyone else. "I love you Santana, nobody else," I took another few steps to her until I was on the altar with her. I took her hand in mine and squeezed gently. "And, yes, I know that you love me too. I see it, I hear it, I feel it."

"Yeah, I do, Brittany," she whispered back with a smile.

"So, like, run away with me, or something," Jesus, that sounded like something Finn would say. I didn't see any hesitation whatsoever, just a quick head nod and before I knew it, I was being dragged out of the church and into the nearby car that Finn had left running. I hopped into the driver's seat and hit the accelerator, curving out of the completely filled parking lot and out onto the main street.

"Finally, Britt," Santana whispered, hanging off of me like a sloth. "I thought you'd never come."

"Well, you know," I laughed. She peppered kisses all over my throat and face until we were out of Lima.


End file.
